Eleanor Agnes Lee
On The Jail Steps
I've won the race.
Young man, I'm new!
Good luck to you!
I've turned about,
And paid for sin.
And you come out,
As I go in.
Ten years! but mark,
I am free, free!
Ten years of dark
Shall gather me.
My wife long-while
She wept her pain.
She cannot smile;
She weeps again.
My little one
Shall know my call.
Child is there none
For sin grows tall.
Now who are you,
Spar of hell's flood?
And who, and who,
But your own blood?
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Comments about this poem (On The Jail Steps by Eleanor Agnes Lee )
- Democracies All Must Fail, Is It Poetry
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- BYE! BYE! ! BYE! ! ! EBOLA! ! !, G. AKANJI OLANIYI
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- One's Mind, michael walkerjohn
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- 6 is truly 9, michael walkerjohn
- Flowers!, rajendran muthiah
- Never feel alone, hasmukh amathalal
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